


A Lone Knight's Diversion

by SierraBlanca



Series: The Lone Knight and the Sleeping Beast [6]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sleeping Beauty Fusion, Anal Fingering, Cock Rings, Curse Breaking, Humiliation, Interspecies Sex, Jotunn | Frost Giant, M/M, Middle Ages, Non-Consensual, Orgasm Denial, Possessive Behavior, Power Imbalance, Sexual Slavery, Spells & Enchantments, Submission, The Nine Realms, Ásgarðr | Asgard (realm)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 21:44:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8914012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SierraBlanca/pseuds/SierraBlanca
Summary: Lord Stark looked at him with appreciation, and gestured at him to follow by patting a hand against his thigh; as if he were a trained dog. Flushing slightly, the Jotnar trailed behind him, allowing himself to be taken to the washroom. There, a large wooden tub stood steaming. He could see all type of cleaning products across the room, going from soap and bath tonics to aromatic potions. The scent of herbs was very strong.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Warning! This story is not for the faint hearted! The themes I treat in here are extremely dark, and if you are not into non-consensual stories, I strongly recommend you not to read it :s

It was late in the morning when Loki woke up. He was alone, laying between the soft satin cushions of the chambers’ royal bed, and as soon as he opened his eyes he noticed that Lord Stark was standing in the doorway; engaged in an argument with someone outside. Immediately, he was afraid, thinking that the Lord might be displeased with him, and how he had spent the night engaged a tight embrace with one of his courtesans. As he laid still and listened to the man’s words, however, he understood that this was not the case. Surely, his punishment would be terrible if it were. Rather, Lord Stark seemed to be discussing about having the washroom ready for use. It was his intention, apparently, to have his courtier properly groomed.

The servant spoke about understanding his qualms regarding cleanliness and sanitation, but tried to convince him against his resolve of carrying out the task by himself. He should remember, he said, his own censure of other Lords on account of their slaves, and their excessive fondness for them. Lord Stark laughed dismissively at this, as if the mere idea of being fond of anyone were ludicrous to him, and quickly ordered the man to retire. With that, he closed the door and came back into the room, walking closer to the bed. He noticed that Loki’s eyes were open, and not giving him a single moment to recover from his lethargic state, commanded him to rise.

Loki complied silently, brushing a few strands of hair away from his forehead, and wondering, at the back of his mind, where had Joan been taken. She was nowhere to be seen, and neither were any of the other courtesans. Perhaps, they had been taken to a separate room; as it usually happened whenever Lord Stark grew tired of the crowded company. As he rose, the man looked at him with appreciation, and gestured at him to follow by patting a hand against his thigh; as if he were a trained dog. Flushing slightly, the Jotnar trailed behind him, allowing himself to be taken to the washroom. There, a large wooden tub stood steaming. He could see all type of cleaning products across the room, going from soaps and bath tonics to aromatic potions. The scent of herbs was very strong.

Lord Stark took him by the hand, leading him towards the tub, and as Loki climbed inside he felt a delicious cold water wash over his body. The Lord wrapped his long, curly hair in a tight knot on the back of his head and fixed it there with several pins. Then he undressed as well, and submerged himself in the water with him; seemingly not caring about its icy temperature. Strong, muscled arms surrounded Loki’s back, and a soft, short kiss was given to the back of his neck. He fought not to tremble, knowing it would displease his Lord. Deft fingers began to rub the white foam of the soap around his shoulders, and against his will, he found himself reveling in the ministration. Lord Stark’s breathing was hot behind his ears, and his chest moved up and down against his back at the rhythm of it; somehow calming him.

“Are you very tired, Loki?” The Lord asked, spreading the soft foam around his hands and between his large, delicate fingers. Loki stared down at the assistance with uncertainty; not understanding why he was being treated in this way.

“Not so tired, My Lord.” He lied, hoping that was the answer the man wanted to hear.

“You must be. We travelled a long way to get here.” He said, slowly rubbing one of his hands between his own. “But it’s been only a week since we arrived, hasn’t? The first days after a long travel, one doesn’t feel his own exhaustion. Then the days pass. Your muscles begin to hurt, and you sleep for many hours. You’ll feel it soon, I’m sure, and there would be an aching in your arms and legs too.”

“My arms and legs hurt, My Lord. But it is not because of the journey.” The Jotnar said, feeling strangely bold. Luckily, instead of getting offended, Lord Stark laughed at his retort. It was a rich and throaty sound, that seemed to buzz against Loki’s back.

“It is not only because of your punishments. Fatigue can be hard as well.” He answered, kissing him behind the left ear, and in a soft place between his jaw and his high cheekbones. “Tell me when the aching starts. I’ll soothe you, then.” The words brought a deep frown to Loki’s face, for he found them strange coming from someone who had been so decided on causing him pain since the very day they meet. Still, he was smart enough not to complain about this out loud; especially when his Lord seemed to be in such a good mood.

The man’s fingers were very sure as he washed his ears and face, careful not to get the soap in his eyes. As he came down to work over his stomach, Loki could see the dark hair surrounding his arms, and a few scars a little bellow his elbows that, surely, were given to him in the battlefield. He began washing his chest just as calmly as he had watched the rest of him, and the Jotnar could feel the flush on his face grow darker. His nipples were hardening, and although he knew the man probably couldn’t see anything but the soapy water around him, he couldn’t get rid of the feeling that he was noticing this. The Lord’s hand went down slowly, caressing his stomach, and then they stopped by his inner thighs, and pushed at them gently.

“Spread your legs, love.” He asked, and the Jotnar instantly felt panic rising up his chest. His body still ached terribly for the session he had endured the night before, and he was not looking forward to repeating the experience soon. He obeyed, thought, placing his legs wider apart, and then even farther, as the Lord kept pushing at them. Hands began to rub the dark skin there, and Loki became awfully still. His inner thighs were covered in soap, as were his balls and his scrotum; then the Lord went higher and lightly touched his sex, making him shudder. The Jotnar was hard and swollen with his desire, and to his horror, a hand touched the enlarged tip of his organ; where most of his cravings were accumulated. He drew back involuntarily.

“Ah.” The Lord muttered, retiring his fingers.

Loki’s face was flushed so darkly it hurt. His hands were fisting at his sides; not because of pain, this time, but because of the shame this awakening desire caused in him. It took all of his control not to drop his hands to cover himself as he felt Lord Stark part his legs even wider to touch the hardness there. He gave a soft laugh, as if surprised, but didn’t spoke a word. The Jotnar suppressed a moan as he felt the hand squeezing him lightly. As much as he wanted them to, the cravings between his legs would not stop. He struggled against his tears. This was surely the most humiliating thing that had happened to him ever since he had left Jotunheim. Not even the pain of being taken by force could compare to the disgrace of feeling lust towards one’s own defiler.

Lord Stark said nothing his yearning, thought, and soon reassumed his task of washing him. When the bath had ended, he was led back in to the room; still wet and undressed. The covers had, apparently, been changed by the servants while they were away, and were now of a rich brown color stripped by black. Loki was told to lay down on the mattress, and he did so with little complain. His Lord withdrew, and a moment later he came back with the torturous golden ring that had been used on him the night before. The Jotnar shuddered just at the sight of it. Lord Stark parted his legs and fixed the small device to that little hard kernel of tormented flesh. Loki groaned in pain, but made no complains about the restriction. He felt, in fact, relived, for had he felt the ultimate pleasure, had he commenced to shudder and to flush with the final release from his torment, he would have been absolutely mortified.

“This won’t be removed.” Lord Stark said, passing a hand over his thigh. “Not until I say so. It will prevent you from satisfying yourself, I hope. You might feel pleasure for my diversion, as you have done last night, but that is all. I don’t want to catch you enjoying yourself without my permission; not alone, and not with any of my girls. Is that understood?” He asked, idly caressing the Jotnar’s hard organ. He nodded slightly, not daring to meet his gaze. The gold device between his legs made him all the more conscious about his feelings there.

He was dried after that. Then, Lord Stark told him to lay down in the center of the bed, so that he could rub an aromatic lotion over his skin. He complied hesitantly, feeling awkward as the man placed his knees at each of his sides, supporting himself over the back of his mistreated thighs. The massage that came, thought, was strangely relaxing; and the lotion made him feel clean and well rested. “Now, surely…” The Lord begin, passing his hands over Loki’s shoulders; the Jotnar was relived to find that his voice sounded, once again, content. “There must be questions that you should like to ask me. You may do it, if you like. There is enough for you to be worried about, I think, without having to endure imaginary fears.”

"May I...talk to you, then?" Loki asked, hating how doubtful his voice sounded. The hands nursing his skin went a little higher, pressing against the tight muscles between his shoulders and under his neck. He felt a pressure there slackening, and closed his eyes in relief. He could feel the aching on his body beginning to subside.

“Yes, you may.” Lord Stark answered, rubbing the oil into the backs of his arms and into the crevices of his elbows. Then, he put the flask down, and gave his shoulders another brisk rub with the towel, trying to dry the droplets covering them. It felt good to be lying there, with the man’s hands working on his flesh; not looking to cause harm or pleasure on him, as usual, but to give him a respite. “You may ask me questions when I give you leave. Remember, when I give you leave; and I have just given it."

“I don’t know what to ask.” He confessed, lightly gripping the covers beneath his arms. He was starting to feel drowsy; his head was light and his eyelids felt heavy.

“Well, surely, you must know already that your punishments are meant to be an entertainment for me.” The Lord said, passing a dubious hand over his shoulders and down his back. Loki refused to answer this, noticing how the tone of his voice had changed. It was rougher now. Less content and more unkind. That cruel, depraved part of him that seemed to enjoy causing him pain was coming back. Loki shook off his stupor immediately, feeling alarmed, and briefly wondered what he could do to appease him. A hand was placed beside his head. He could feel Lord Stark shifting above him, as if changing to a new position, and guessed that it was there looking for support. He pressed his lips against it, kissing the back of it slowly; almost tenderly. The body above him stood still for a moment, as if considering the gentle touch.

“You should know as well that I won’t engage in anything that I don’t consider safe for you.” The Lord said, giving a softer, kinder caress to his left shoulder. “I enjoy games, as you must have realized, but it is not my intent to truly harm you. You won’t be burned nor cut by my hand. I don’t enjoy blood, and I don’t find broken bones amusing. I recognize I hit you once, but you must know that’s not the way I usually handle myself.” He said, moving his hands lower, so he might make a pressure in the muscles of Loki’s lower back. His statement left the Jotnar feeling conflicted; not knowing whether he should feel grateful or indifferent towards the promises it held.

The Lord massaged the lotion into his sore calves and the tender flesh behind his knees. He felt calm again; almost somnolent. The sensation of the hands attending his body was growing ever more pleasant, and he resisted it slightly; unwilling to let that craving between his legs torment him once again. The Lord’s fingers were strong (perhaps a little too strong) and they hurt as they moved over to his thighs, which had been almost as mistreated as his calves and buttocks. Loki shifted slightly against the soft, firm bedding, feeling a light burning over the sore skin.

“Do not beg me to release you.” Lord Stark said suddenly, startling him. For once, as he spoke to him, he didn’t sound commanding or forceful. He requested this of him with the amiability that is normally used when asking for a favor. Loki frowned slightly, finding it strange. “Many do, in their first weeks with me. It is insufferable. I do not take rejection well, as you might guess; especially when it comes from something I’m attached to.” The hands were moving again, grabbing his buttocks, and now suddenly all those welts and bruised places seemed to hurt again.

“I would never, My Lord.” The Jotnar answered, biting his lips slightly. The lotion burned slightly as Lord Stark added droplets of it generously, and then those strong fingers began to work his flesh, with little regard for its soreness. Loki winced, feeling his buttocks been shaped by his hands, lifted, separated, and then smoothed again. He flushed to think that it was his Lord the one doing this, who was always so cruel and yet so bitterly sweet to him, and when his voice went on, he felt a new variant of agitation.  _There is no end to it,_ he thought, almost resigned,  _there’s always a new way to be humiliated._

“Why wouldn’t you? Because you have an agreement with me, perhaps?” The Lord asked, sounding almost amused by the thought. When, reluctantly, Loki answered with an affirmation, he fought visibly not to laugh. “I wonder if your father knows how loyal his son actually is. I know I wouldn’t have done this for mine, if I had been asked to.” He said, running a dubious finger over the needy organ between the Jotnar’s legs, and then circling the ring that surrounded it. Suddenly, Loki remembered how he had felt the night before while being down on his knees; how his cock had ached with want as he was driven back and forth across the bedroom; how an obscure pleasure had run through him while he was, finally, roughly taken from behind. He felt mortified with himself; not understanding when he had started to feel such things.

But there was no time to think about that. Lord Stark was turning him over, making him lay over his back on the bed. He bended down towards him, taking him by the right shoulder, and he was suddenly so close that Loki shut his eyes in commotion; gripping the covers beneath his body with long fingers. As his Lord began to silently rub the lotion over his stomach, he pressed his legs together and turned his head to the side. His knees were placed on each side of his thighs now, completely enclosing his lower body, and he could feel a well-known spark of anxiety taking a hold of his heart. “Don’t look so frightened, pet.” The man said, continuing with his ministrations as naturally as before. "It is not my intention to take you, as of now.”

Slowly, he spread the lotion over the front of his shoulders, and then moved swift fingers to smooth it, carefully, over the skin of his throat. Loki shivered violently; feeling terribly exposed. He was thinking of that time in the Inn, when his Lord had feed his cravings by choking him as he wildly pounded into him. He remembered his cruel words of that day, and how, in the most awful of voices, he had implied that taking his life while having him attend his pleasure would be a reason of gratification for him. Instantly, he felt his eyes flooded by tears, and his whole body began to tremble intensely. Feeling the tremor beneath his fingertips immediately, the Lord looked down at him with puzzlement. The massage stopped, and his hands quickly retired from the soft skin around Loki’s neck.

“Would you really do it?” The Jotnar asked, and he was shocked to hear himself speak these words. His voice was strangely low. It was not fearful, thought, and neither it was weak nor soft. Just gloomy. Somehow, disheartened. “Would you go has far as to end my life in your search for pleasure? Am I worth so little, that my death might be nothing more to you, than momentary release?” Loki didn’t know where he had taken the courage to ask this. He had been given the permission to question his Lord, and this was, in reality, the only doubt that he actually had about their arrangement. He hadn’t even contemplated how to make the inquiry, thought, and was not sure why he had made it now; in such a rushed, callous manner.

Lord Stark was looking down at him, seeming startled; his brown, thick eyebrows were arched downwards, and his face looked somehow paler than before. Slowly, almost hesitantly, he put a hand over Loki’s forehead, and caressed it slightly. His eyes contorted in something akin to remorse. “No, Loki. Of course not.” He said, quietly stroking his face with the back of his fingers. “Sometimes my games go too far, and I say and do things that I regret later. I can assure you that if I said this to you, it was not because I meant to scare you, but because I didn’t thought you would believe me.”

Loki found himself staring at the man, not fully understanding the meaning of his words. He comprehended, though, that the thread from which his life was pending was not as thin as he had first thought, and that was enough to appease him, for the moment. The Lord bended over him to kiss him, and more out of custom than of compliance, he allowed the contact. It was a short touch of the lips, and although its swiftness didn’t bother him, he had the impression it was somehow different from all the other kisses he had been forced to give before. This one was not a mean to satisfy lust or desire, and it was not a way for Lord Stark to demonstrate his power over him either; the man seemed to believe that through it, he was offering comfort. Far from reassuring him, it confused Loki even more, but as he usually did when facing this type of problems he decided to stay silent and let the Lord do as he pleased.

He poured the lotion into the palm of his left hand, and putting the bottle down beside him, he rubbed the humid balm over the skin of his chest. He lifted and squeezed the tender flesh there, as he had done with his thighs and buttocks, and the Jotnar found himself flushing again. He closed his eyes slightly, and bit into his lower lip. As the man roughly massaged his nipples, he let out a little sound that made him stop. Leniently, he let go of them after giving them a hard squeeze. His hands went lower then, slightly caressing his stomach as they made their way to the front of his thighs. Loki could feel how darkly colored his face was. Deft fingers touched the sensitive skin there, taking special care of the parts that had been mistreated in the session of the night before. At the slow contact, the Jotnar could feel his sex throbbing against the ring that restricted it. He wondered if it gave off heat, and if his Lord could feel it with the back of his hands. For the smile lingering on his lips, he guessed that he did.

Even as he lay there, flushing darkly and trembling slightly because of his attentions, Lord Stark would not give him peace, and instead of leaving him be, he parted his legs even more. He separated his buttocks with both of his hands, and to the Jotnar’s dismay, started prodding at the small orifice there. “Please, do not do that.” He said softly, looking up to the ceiling. His eyes were stinging again. “If you want to stop me from doing something, pet, I recommend you not to plead. It only gives me more reasons to keep going.” The Lord said, lightly kissing the side of one of his knees as he went on with his fondling. Loki bit his lips and closed his eyes as he widened the orifice with two fingers, and began to enter it with a third one. A burning pain arose inside him, and even with the small, golden restrain around it, the needy organ above his entrance began to swell in interest. Lord Stark was careful not to touch it, not wanting to give him release, but Loki could feel how his curious fingers entered him; massaging every soft wall inside him. He moaned slightly, earning a mischievous grin from his Lord.

“Poor darling slave.” The man said, removing the digits and making the Jotnar grunt with dissatisfaction.

He ordered him to sit up, then, and called for a pair of handmaids that were entrusted with the task of braiding his hair. He sat on the chair by the fire, never taking his eyes off his handsome courtier, and watched with unrestrained pleasure as the girls began to brush his wild locks. They began to arrange them in coils in the back of his head, as the Jotnar sat by the edge of the bed; with his knees drawn up, his head bowed, and his body trembling with want.

 


End file.
